Then, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, the judge says I’m free to go. Press swarm around me and Callie as we duck past them, weaving our way through the Brooks.
“Mr. Citrione, how did you know where to find Mrs. Beccaccio on the night of the murders?”
“Mr. Citrione! Why didn’t you say anything about the Sanatore family when you were initially questioned?”
“Sources say there was corruption on a wide scale in this case. What are your comments?”
I wave off the questions, pushing past the reporters and bulldozing any who get too close with my shoulders. We manage to catch an elevator by ourselves, closing off the sound of shouted questions. I raise my eyebrows and sigh. “They’re like fucking vultures.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter what they say. You’re free. And you’re with us now.”
I move into her, my hand finding the gentle swell of her belly. “My little man,” I say quietly.
“Little man, is it?” she asks with a smile. She’s so close that I can feel the heat of her breath on my neck. “I was thinking it would be a little girl. Victoria Citrione.”
“If it’s a girl, that’ll just give me an excuse to keep getting you pregnant until we get a boy.”
She laughs, but I cut her off with a hard kiss. The elevator doors open at the same time, and I catch someone standing there from the corner of my eye. I pull away from Callie, noticing we haven’t reached the ground floor yet. Greg Cartwright steps into the elevator, looking pissed.
“Enjoying yourselves?” he asks, standing beside us with his hands in his pockets. “I just wanted to tell you that you had better get used to looking over your shoulders. You think you can just blackmail me and get away with it? Just wait. When you least expect it, I’ll—”
My fist cracks against Greg’s jaw. His head whips to the side and bangs into the elevator door. His eyes roll back and close as he slumps to the floor, unconscious. I grab him quickly by the shoulders and lay him on his side, moving him to the corner of the elevator and turning his face to the wall. The doors open a few seconds later and two women’s eyes widen when they see him on the ground.
“Had too much to drink,” I say casually, grabbing Callie’s arm and leading her from the elevator.
26
Callie
Three Months Later
I show Damian a printout of The Spot’s numbers for the month. He leans forward, putting a hand on my shoulder as he takes a closer look.
“You’re telling me we made that much just from selling people food?”
I try not to smile too wide. “It’s a wonder what a little advertising can do, isn’t it?”
He shakes his head. “No. It’s a wonder what you can do.” He kisses me. “With money like this, who needs to break the law.”
“It will only get better. If you franchise the restaurant and start investing in expansion, there’s really no ceiling to how much we can grow this. It helps that people love the food.”
He laughs. “I thought I was the only one who knew I was a good cook.”
“I hate to admit it, but you’re an amazing cook. I think the problem is you’re just amazing at everything you try. Except card games and bowling, at least.”
Damian gives me a fiery look. “You think you’re slick, but I know your games now. You start trying to piss me off when you want to fuck.” His hand slides up my shirt, moving under my bra. “You know better than to tempt me in public. Remember what I did to you at that hotel pool?”
My cheeks burn red at the memory. There were people walking by as he fingered me under our towel. If anyone had paid enough attention, it would have been obvious, but no one did. It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. But that’s a combination I’m getting more and more used to with him. “I remember,” I say quietly.
He bites his lip. “Good. If you can keep your pants on long enough, I have a surprise for you,” he says with a smirk. He leans his head out of the small restaurant office and shouts down the hall for Julia.
She steps in, holding a rag and a glass she was cleaning. “Yes?” she says, eyes darting between Damian and I.
I give her a look that says I’m sorry and I don’t know what this is about.
“I heard you were trying to pay for school?” asks Damian.
My heart sinks. I don’t know how he heard, but I had almost forgotten about all the money he gave me. He never asked where it went, and I worry that he’d be pissed to learn I gave it away. From the look on Julia’s face, she’s worried about the exact same thing.
“Yes. I want to be a therapist,” says Julia, her voice uncharacteristically meek.
“Yeah, well I paid for it. I know some people in the education field and I made a few arrangements. I also got your name thrown to the top of a few lists for graduate school for when you finish the last semester of undergrad.”
Julia frowns. “I can’t accept that…”
“Too bad, because I already did it. I did it for Callie, because I know she cares about you, and I get good fiancé points whether you take me up on it or not. So to be honest, I don’t give a shit if you go to the classes I paid for or if you go to graduate school.”
I scowl at Damian. “For the record, you don’t get as many points if she doesn’t go.”
“In that case, you had better accept, or I’ll fire you.”
Julia laughs in disbelief. “You really did that? This isn’t some kind of joke?”
Damian just shrugs. I know he probably doesn’t care about her or her education, but knowing he went through all of that just for me makes me swell with warmth. I’m thrilled for Julia, too.
She wipes a tear from her eye and hugs Damian and then me, whispering thank you in my ear at least ten times. I feel like I should tell her I had no part in any of this, but I also don’t see the point in ruining the mood, so I just hug her back.
“Go on, get out of here,” says Damian. “You’ve got drinks to serve!”
She nods and hurries off.
“You are the nicest asshole I’ve ever seen,” I say in amazement.
He quirks an eyebrow at me.
27
Damian
I get off the phone with the wedding planner for what I hope is the last time. Picking colors and decorations is like torture, but I want the day to be perfect for Callie. She has put up with so much shit from me that she deserves every last detail to be just right, even down to the placement of the monograms on the silverware. I step back out into the cafe where Benny, Brooks, and Franklin are drinking coffee in a booth. I sit down with them.
“So what did you find?” I ask Franklin.
“Not much, which is good. The Sanatores that were pulled in and arrested after your trial must have been most of the brains. It seems like the rest of them are just splitting off and joining with other crews instead of trying to rebuild. It may not have been the way you wanted it to go down, but you took them off the map.”
I nod. He’s right, it’s not how I thought I wanted it. To be honest though, being with Callie has soothed the fire for violent revenge in me. I can live with justice. I might go as far as to say I’m happy it turned out this way.
“What about the Cartwrights?”
“They took some heat for the trial. A few of the people they pressed to help you spoke out against them. But the public doesn’t care much about the owner of a mega corporation and his son. The story is scandalous, but neither of them are famous enough for it to really stick or matter. It’ll blow over soon.”
“So they will both be back to living their lives of luxury,” I say sourly.
Franklin nods, reaching to pull something from his briefcase. “Unless you turn this into authorities.” He hands me a manilla envelope stuffed with papers.
“Evidence?” I ask.
“Enough to sink the Cartwrights overnight. I thought you should hold on to it, in case Greg makes good on his promise to turn in that security footage he has of you and Mr. Capobianco.�
�
“Just call me Benny. And Damian,” says Benny, “I think we should drop him before he has a chance to turn us in. What if he just goes straight to the cops with it and doesn’t come through us?”
“He won’t. I’ll make sure he knows we have the book on him. Trust me.”
Benny nods. “Fair enough. If you think he’s safe, I’ll trust you on it.”
“I do. Thanks, Franklin.” I say pointedly, giving Franklin the signal that he’s free to leave.
He tips his fedora and stands, leaving without finishing his coffee.
“How’s the business?” I ask Benny and Brooks.
“Not the same with you on probation,” says Benny, “but we’re doing okay. I got a new source of industrials out of Jersey that should bring in a few extra grand a month for us. I was thinking if we—”
I hold up my hand. “That’s good. Benny. I want you to take over for me. Permanently. I’ve got a fiancé who is pregnant with my child. I can’t keep living this lifestyle. And I trust you to run this thing in my place. The guys will listen to you, and you’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”
He gives me a look of astonishment. “Just like that? You’re going to walk away?”
“Yeah.”
Brooks raises his eyebrows. “Good for you, Damian. You’re doing the right thing.”
“I know.”
Epilogue
Callie
A tropical rendition of wedding music plays in the background. It’s hard to hear over the rustle of palm trees and the whoosh of waves lapping at the beach, but I think I’ll get over it somehow. Damian wouldn’t let me stress about planning the wedding, which might have bothered some women. Not me. It’s like he knew I didn’t want to have to think about it. I just wanted the day to be special and to be with him. All the little details didn’t seem that important to me.
It made me smile seeing him try to be sneaky about laboriously planning the day though. He would slip off and take calls, whispering about floral arrangements and color pairings. I would say it showed me another side of him, but it really didn’t. Damian has always acted with one driving purpose since we met, and that was to do what would keep me safe first and foremost, and what would keep me happy right behind that. I’ve just been surprised to see that he will go to any lengths to make me happy, even leaving behind the only kind of life he has ever known.
I made sure he knew that it was his choice. I wasn’t going to leave him if he stayed in the mafia, but I was going to at least have some ground rules or expectations for the safety of our family. When I got into this relationship with Damian, I knew I didn’t want to force him to change. God knew Greg tried that with me for so long that I couldn’t live with myself if I did. Did I not-so-gently nudge him out of murdering some people in cold blood? Maybe. But I think that’s one exception I can live with.
Franklin Guerre stands beside me, wearing a sharp blue fedora and suit. He looks a little ridiculous, but in his charming, slightly off sort of way. Since I definitely wasn’t inviting my family, Damian said he wanted Franklin to walk me down the aisle.
Franklin looks over to me. “You ready?”
I suck in a deep breath, which is easier said than done in my wedding gown. I didn’t want to look ridiculous with some overly frilly thing on the beach, so I chose a more sleek style without all the bells and whistles. It still has beautifully elegant lines and a cut that I was happy to see flattered my frame in all the right places. It’s tight around the baby bump and the chest though, and I worry a sharp breath might pop me right out of it. I underestimated how much my belly would grow from the baby between when I tried the dress on a few weeks ago and now.
Damian stands beneath the makeshift altar of terraced wood laced with palm fronds. His back is to the ocean and he faces a beautiful arrangement of chairs framed by half pillars with strings of flowers hung between them.
The sun sinks beneath the waves inch by inch as I begin walking down the aisle toward Damian. He’s cast in shadow, little more than a black shape against the brilliance of the sun, and I can’t help remembering seeing him this way the first time, at the gas station. Back then I thought the darkness I saw was a reflection of the man inside, now I know it’s only a part of him, even as his face is shrouded in blackness, he’s bathed in light from behind. If I look closely enough, I can see the faint halo of reddish orange surrounding his body, almost like a promise of the man he is becoming. For me.
The ceremony was a blur. I feel guilty for not noticing more, but as soon as my eyes met Damian’s, it felt like I was in a daze. The priest spoke, I said the words, I cried, and I kissed him more passionately than was dignified in public. It was only thirty minutes ago and I’m already forgetting everything except for snapshots of how perfect it was.
We sit outside a beach cafe. It’s a barbecue place, and I felt a swelling of love toward Damian when I saw it. He remembered the first time we ate together was to have barbecue. It’s a simple thing, but that’s all I ever needed in a relationship. I only ever wanted small acknowledgments of affection, not the grand gestures Greg thought could smooth over any mistake.
A waitress sets a plate of fried chitlins at our table and I burst out laughing. Damian smiles at me from the other end of the table and pops one in his mouth, trying to look like he’s enjoying it. The way the corners of his mouth pull down faintly in a grimace makes me laugh even harder.
Julia stops by our table and makes a face at the chitlins. “You guys like those things? You know pig shit passes through those, right? They are small intensti—”
“We know,” I say, grinning. “Thank you for coming, Julia, it means a lot to me. You’re one of the few friends I have here.”
She leans in to give me a hug. “That’s fine by me. It means I get you all to myself.”
“How is school going?”
“Good. Great, really. I’m about to get the last credits I needed to apply for grad school in a few weeks. I’ve already started contacting schools. I’m thinking of staying here in New York, though. Anyway, I’ll let you two get back to your food.”
Vince and Aubriella are next to visit our table.
“The ceremony was beautiful,” says Aubriella.
“Thank you,” says Damian.
She gives him an odd look and Vince laughs.
“What, did you plan it?” asks Vince.
For the first time since I’ve known Damian, I see him blush. “Yeah. Maybe I did.”
Vince’s eyebrows flick up and he smirks. “Well, good job. It was nice.”
“Where are the kids?” I ask Aubriella.
She points over to a table where Agent Conway’s grandchildren and Aubriella’s kids are watching a woman in a cheesy lab coat drop dry ice into colored beakers of water. “They are entertained and supervised, which means we are happy,” she says, squeezing her husband by the waist.
Her husband. My eyes slide from Aubriella to Damian. My husband, Damian. I twist the wedding band around my finger idly. My husband. The thought makes me feel a little giddy, and I want to find an excuse to say the words out loud. “My husband ordered us some chitlins. Do you want any?” I ask.
Aubriella gives me a look that says she sees straight through my ploy, and now it’s my turn to blush. “It feels weird to say it, doesn’t it?”
“Really weird. But good,” I agree.
Vince reaches down to grab a chitlin. Aubriella looks like she’s about to warn him but Damian and I both catch her eye, shaking our heads slightly. He pops it in his mouth, chews distractedly, and swallows, reaching to grab another. Damian looks down, covering his mouth in an attempt to hold back laughter. Aubriella puts a palm to her forehead in surrender. All I can do is watch in amazement.
Before the reception is over, we catch up with the last of our short list of guests. I even meet Aubriella’s old friend, Aria, who wishes us luck. Agent Conway tells us that he was finally able to get out from beneath Greg’s blackmail by threatening to release what he knew on t
he Cartwrights. I didn’t realize how much strain he held in his features until it was gone. He looks like a new man, ten years younger and ten times happier. Franklin wishes us well, and promises to be ready if we ever need him again.
The only notable absence is Greg, who was not invited, but we had expected to crash the party. To me, it’s a sign that he has finally given up on sabotaging us, and a sign that Damian and I can continue forward on our own finally, without it feeling like the entire world is crashing down around us.
We move to dance together again as the reception is nearing its end. The song is slow, and one I don’t recognize. The singer sounds more hopeful than she does sad, but the chords are sorrowful, pulling at my emotions. I cling to Damian, my firm, swollen belly pressing into his hard body. His strong, protective hands circle me and I feel complete. We hold each other, moving slowly in circles, letting the music pass through us, and I can’t help feeling as though the song traces the path our relationship took. The sadness in the music gradually lightens, with major chords being worked into the composition. The vocals become more powerful and elements of the orchestra begin enriching the solitary piano. The song ends with a wash of harmonious sounds that blend together and fade out peacefully.
Isn’t that how it was between Damian and I? We were drawn together by sadness and anger, and even though the sorrow was always surrounding us, the moments we shared together were like protected clusters of joy and excitement. In the past few months I’ve felt the shroud of sadness fading away like mist before the sun. We’re happy now. Things still aren’t perfect. There are lingering fears of what might happen if Damian’s former enemies come after us. We’re still afraid Greg might decide to try something to sabotage us. But we’re not focused on it anymore. We’re focused on each other, the way we should be. And we’re focused on making sure we are ready to be the happiest, and most supportive parents possible for little Victoria. Damian wasn’t too upset that he’d have to keep trying to get me pregnant to get the boy he wanted. He actually seemed excited.
Mine (Citrione Crime Family #2) Page 17
